


(the killing moon) will come too soon

by scenedenial



Category: Donnie Darko (2001)
Genre: Codependence, First Time, M/M, Mind Control, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenedenial/pseuds/scenedenial
Summary: I’m here for you, Donnie. For your every need.“Oh.” Donnie’s hand comes up to touch Frank’s mask, the cool metal against fur against skin sending chills down his spine. “Okay.”
Relationships: Frank Anderson/Donnie Darko
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	(the killing moon) will come too soon

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first Donnie Darko fic lol hope u enjoy !

The visions are better than the pills. Cause at least with the visions Donnie can still feel his toes and fingers and the thoughts working in his skull. At least he can still get it up. 

He flushes a week’s worth of anti-psychotics down the toilet then stands over the bowl and jerks off. 

All Donnie thinks about is fucking. Cause why bother thinking about anything else? He thinks about pussy while he eats dry cereal for breakfast and while he waits for the bus and before he falls asleep at night.

Especially then. 

He thinks about fucking Gretchen. And his English teacher. And Cherita. Even his therapist. He rubs himself raw. 

Lately, though, there’s been a sort of resistance pulling in the back of Donnie’s brain. Something hard to describe. Not guilt or embarrassment; almost something physical. As if his body turns to lead when he unzips his jeans. 

It takes Donnie days to figure out that it’s Frank. Even longer to realize that Frank is _jealous_. 

“What?” Donnie says to his ceiling. “Fucking what?” His cock is hard in his pajama pants and he wants to touch it but he can feel Frank hovering in his head. 

_You’re better than this,_ Frank’s voice murmurs. 

“Better than _sex_?” 

_This isn’t sex. This is nothing like sex._

“Fuck off.” Donnie is still hard.

_You don’t know how good you could feel. You have no idea._

“You don’t hafta call me a virgin. I know.” 

Frank materializes at the foot of Donnie’s bed. Donnie can smell him; the dank, wet scent of his matted bunny costume. 

_Why do you think of them?_

“Cause they’re hot. Cause I like pussy.” Donnie’s getting tired of explaining himself.

_You don’t need them._ Frank moves around to Donnie’s bedside, leans over him. The silver eyes of Frank’s mask glint in the slats of light thrown in by the streetlamp. _You only need me._

“You don’t have a pussy.” Donnie laughs, but his stomach is twisting. Frank’s face is close enough to his own that they could kiss. 

_So?_ Frank’s laugh jars Donnie’s whole body. Makes his cock jump. What the fuck.

_I’m here for you, Donnie. For your every need._

“Oh.” Donnie’s hand comes up to touch Frank’s mask, the cool metal against fur against skin sending chills down his spine. “Okay.” 

_I would never hurt you, Donnie. I only want the best for you._

“I know,” Donnie mutters, even though he doesn’t. 

_Take off your pajamas, Donnie._

Donnie does. The hair on his thighs is standing up, gooseflesh prickling his skin. 

“I’m so horny,” Donnie mumbles.

_I know._

“Frank…”

_You don’t need to talk, Donnie._

“Okay.” 

Donnie closes his eyes. Shakes with need as he feels Frank’s weight bear down on top of him. Fuck. What the fuck. 

He expects his mind to go back to Gretchen, or Alyssa Milano, or a pair of oiled-up tits. It doesn’t. It’s like Frank is keeping his brain empty on purpose. Donnie’s fingers curl and clutch in the faux-fur of the bunny suit. 

Frank’s lips meet Donnie’s and his eyes fly open to see Frank’s _face_ , unobscured by the mask. One of his eyes has been shot out. Blood is trickling across Donnie’s face. Donnie doesn’t flinch. 

He likes the smell. He likes laying still on his bed, knowing he’s powerless, knowing that Frank is inside of his head and on top of his body, holding him down, holding him weightless between here and the future. 

“Take off the costume,” Donnie mumbles, his eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed with pleasure. “Wanna see you.” 

_And you will,_ Frank says right into Donnie’s head. 

Blood drips from Frank’s eyeless socket onto Donnie’s bare chest. Donnie doesn’t remember taking his shirt off. He doesn’t remember spreading his thighs. He looks down and realizes he’s no longer wearing boxers. 

There’s no embarrassment. Not with Frank. Donnie watches as Frank runs a hand over the place on Donnie’s stomach where his pubes begin, surprisingly gentle and deft in the huge paws of the suit. 

Donnie blinks, and in that spit of a moment, Frank’s costume comes off. His skin looks like milk in the moonlight. His arms and stomach are solid and defined. His cock —

_Do you like what you see, Donnie?_

Donnie nods, mouth too dry for words. He’s so hard that it’s agony.

Franks hands, human hands now, shove Donnie’s knees up. He’s exposed, naked, cock leaking against his thigh. Frank’s one good eye is looking down at Donnie like he’s something edible. If Frank wanted to drain Donnie of his blood, chew through his flesh, he wouldn’t mind. 

_I know what you want from me._

“So do it,” Donnie chokes out. “Will it hurt?”

_Not if you don’t want it to._ There’s a pause; Frank’s nails dig into the pale undersides of Donnie’s thighs. _But I think you do._

Donnie giggles at the fucking weirdness of it all. Frank cuts him off with a hand to the base of Donnie’s cock.

_We both know I’m right, Donnie._

There’s no use denying it; Frank can hear every thought that bounces off Donnie’s skull.

“You are.” Donnie swallows, sweats. He can feel Frank’s cock against his leg. It’s big. “But I’m scared.” 

_You have nothing to be afraid of._

“You promise?” Franks fingers tighten around Donnie’s balls. It wrenches a moan from his lips. 

_I promise._ Frank nips at Donnie’s left knee. _No one has ever touched you like this._

It’s a statement, not a question. Donnie might be blushing. 

“Only you, Frank.”

_You only need me._

“Yeah. Just you.” 

Frank pushes his cock inside of Donnie. Everything goes white, then red. 

“Oh—” Donnie chokes. 

_Relax, Donnie. Take it._

Donnie squeezes his eyes shut. Balls his fists in Frank’s stringy hair. The pain in his core lessens, then swells, and he realizes Frank is controlling what he feels. Testing his limits. 

Donnie’s legs come up and wrap around Frank’s back. He was right about the pain thing; it brings hot tears to Donnie’s eyes, it’s so good.

_I know._ Frank grabs Donnie’s chin, bites his lower lip.

“More?” Donnie doesn’t trust himself with anything more than a monosyllable right now. Frank chuckles. 

Donnie feels like he’s exploding. Like he’s being ripped apart from the inside out. He feels like he’ll die if Frank goes any further, like he’ll die if he stops. 

_You won’t die._

“I might.” Donnie pants. He’s drowning in sweat. Frank’s cock feels like it’s getting bigger and bigger inside of him (can he do that?). 

_You’re fine._ Frank pulls out and it’s like a pressure has lifted off Donnie’s chest; he shoves back in and it’s like a bomb going off.

“Wh—” Donnie gasps. Tears fall into his ears. “What is that, Frank?” 

Frank laughs, but it doesn’t sound mean. 

_That’s your prostate, Donnie._

“Oh.” 

_I told you it would be fine._

“More than fine.” Donnie’s voice sounds more than wrecked. He closes his eyes, skin burning everywhere that Frank’s fingers touch. Donnie is a forest fire. He’s Jim Cunningham’s huge house. There are flames licking up every inch of him, inside him.

_You’re about to cum._

“No ‘m—” Donnie gasps and cums on his stomach, a stuttering shout escaping from his chest. It doesn’t stop for several moments, several moments of Donnie shaking and cursing and bucking his hips up weakly as Frank runs his fingers down the length of Donnie’s cheek. 

_That’s it. You were made for me._

“Frank…”

_Shh. Don’t talk._

Donnie obeys. Closes his eyes. 

When he wakes up, his pajamas are on and the blankets are pulled up to his chin and Frank is gone. Donnie’s head is blissfully empty.


End file.
